This Counts as Bonding, Sure
by Croik
Summary: Peter goes to Steve for relationship advice. It goes about as well as you'd expect. (Takes place after "I'll Find a Way to Let You Have Your Way With Me.")


Part of my Bruce/Peter fic series, taking place a few weeks after "I'll Find a Way..." Peter goes to Steve for relationship advice. Rated T for talking about sex.

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**This Counts as Bonding, Sure**

Oneshot

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"Captain Rogers," reported JARVIS, "you have an incoming visitor."

Steve lifted his head. By the time he was able to extricate his hands from the motorcycle engine he had been working on all afternoon, the elevator was chiming its arrival. He had only a moment to wonder who would have known where to find him before Peter was stepping out, dressed for work with a backpack over his shoulder.

"Peter." Steve pushed back from his project and grabbed up a rag to wipe the grease off his hands. "I didn't think you had clearance for this level."

Peter got only a few steps out of the elevator before slowing to a halt still several meters away. His eyes went a little glossy, and after waiting several beats for a response, Steve tried again. "Peter?"

Peter's cheeks turned rosy as he shook himself. "Sorry," he said, laughing. He came closer. "Sorry, I didn't expect you to be so...shirtless."

Steve glanced down and only then remembered that the rag he was using had at one point been his shirt-he wasn't yet familiar with the layout of the tower's garage floor and hadn't wanted to abandon his work to hunt out something more suitable. "Um, sorry," he said awkwardly, not sure if it was the right response. "I wasn't expecting company."

"No no, it's fine, it's...great. I mean, shirtless Captain America and his Harley." Peter grinned nearly ear to ear. "It's just about the manliest thing I've seen all week. In fact..." He swung his backpack around in front of him. "...I happen to have my camera..."

Steve was torn between scoffing and blushing. He shook his head. "How'd you get down here?"

"My apologies, Captain Rogers," JARVIS interrupted. "But as current admin, Dr. Banner has reissued Mr. Parker's clearance to cover nearly every floor of the building."

Peter pointed upwards. "What he said." He set his backpack on the ground and then sat himself on the nearest work table. "But uh, if you don't want me interrupting-"

"It's fine," said Steve. He returned to attaching the clutch sprocket to his transmission. "Stark offered a few times to let me use his 'garage.' Now that I finally have a bike to work on, I figured I'd take him up on it."

Peter kicked his feet as he looked the motorcycle over. "It's a beauty."

"It's a '48 Softail. Bruce helped me get a hold of it." He winced. "I think he felt guilty, when he found out what happened to my last bike."

"Yeah, he told me."

Steve glanced up again, taking note of Peter's far-off expression. He had the feeling that Peter's body language was screaming "invitation" but he didn't want to push, in case he was wrong. "I kind of like it down here," he said. "Stark's got everything I could need, of course, and it beats trying to change a carburetor in my apartment. Now that he's out west I don't even have to worry about him coming down here and offering suggestions."

Peter's lip curled, but his eyes were still distant. "Yeah. It's kind of weird being in the tower without him. Not that I saw him that much while I was at the internship, anyway, it's just...quieter, somehow." He shrugged. "I dunno."

"I know what you mean," said Steve. He couldn't exactly say that he _missed_ Tony being around, but it was one more familiar face gone. "But how are you, Peter? You've started classes by now, haven't you?"

"Yeah-yeah." Peter straightened up. "Some of it is prerequisite stuff, but I'm in biochem. I'm thinking of going into biophysics. I mean, I know it's kind of weird, going into a field just so you can learn to analyze your own blood, but-"

"It's not weird," said Steve as he continued his assembly. "It's important to you. As long as you maintain perspective, you'll be fine."

"Perspective," Peter echoed. He nodded along and kept going. "I'm doing my best. And then there's the job-Mr. Stark snuck me into the bioengineering theory lab. It's a lot more advanced than what we were doing in the internship but I'm catching up. And _then _there's the costume work, of course. I even managed to rig up my camera a few times and get some action shots. Sold them to the Daily Bugle for a couple hundred-to help out Aunt May. And on top of all _that_ there's Bruce, so, yeah, I've been..." He rolled his eyes in dramatic fashion. "I've been busy."

"It sure sounds like it." Steve glanced up, and was positive that time of Peter's expression. "So," he said at last, "how _is_ Bruce?"

"He's...Bruce." Peter shrugged, even though Steve could already see the story he was ready to launch into, hiding just behind his straying eyes. "You know. I'm headed up there after this."

Steve leaned back from the engine. "Did something happen between you two?"

"No-not really." Peter kicked his feet. "We're fine. More than fine, actually."

"Peter," said Steve. He gave Peter his Captain look. "You obviously came down here to tell me _something_. What is it?"

Peter hesitated a moment longer, but he clearly wasn't fooling anyone, and he finally surrendered, "You said before that I could...talk, yeah? To you, if I needed to?"

Steve wiped off his hands and turned to better face Peter. "I did," he said. "And I meant it." He considered stopping there and then decided to be completely honest. "Though I'm not sure how impartial I can be. You already know I'm going to take your side over his."

Peter chuckled nervously, though he looked like he appreciated it, even as he shook his head. "It's not like that. I was hoping you could..." He blushed, and Steve suddenly had a very bad feeling about where their conversation was heading. "...give me some advice. Relationship advice."

Steve tried to keep his discomfort out of his face as he tugged a stool closer. "Um. Well." _Completely honest_, he reminded himself. "I'm not sure what I'll be able to offer on that front, either, but all right. What's going on?"

Peter scooted forward, suddenly very animated. "Okay," he said quickly, "I don't want you to get the wrong idea or anything, because I'm not complaining. Things are great-really great. Bruce is great. It's just that lately, I've felt like things could be..._more_ great. Know what I mean?"

Steve frowned at him. "You mean, such as, communicating more?"

"I mean in bed," Peter blurted out, and Steve was sure he saw his full ninety years of life flash before his eyes. That part must have made it to his face, because Peter swiftly carried on with, "Sorry, I know it's awkward, but I'm still really new to this stuff and I figured if anyone knows what they're doing it's Captain America."

Steve looked away, for the first time wishing Tony would show up with lots and lots of advice to offer. "Well, I..."

"It's not even that it's been bad or anything," Peter continued. "Bruce is amazing, and he always takes care of me. Especially when-"

"Peter," said Steve, and then he cleared his throat, as if he could expel the sensation of panic that had briefly crawled up it. "I really don't need details."

"Sorry-I know." Peter rubbed his nose and really did look apologetic, but he also had that unstoppable fire in his eyes. "He's very gentle," he tried again. "We haven't had any trouble with Hulk since...that one time. He's getting a lot better at controlling it, I think, more than he's giving himself credit for."

"Glad to hear it," said Steve, wishing he hadn't moved away from the motorcycle.

"But even so, he's always so careful. We both know nothing's going to happen, but he holds himself back so much. It's like..." He curled and uncurled his fingers as he searched for the right words; Steve tried not to stare. "It's like he's afraid of me. I know it's just that he's afraid of _hurting_ me, but I can take it." Mischief flashed in his smile. "I know I could _really_ take it if he'd just loosen up a little. And sometimes he does, but then I can tell he feels guilty about it later, no matter how many times I tell him that it's okay and I'm all right and it's what I want."

Steve wanted to rub his face, but he remembered his filthy hands just in time. If only he hadn't ruined his only shirt... "So you want him to..."

"I want him to let go," said Peter passionately. "I like getting a little roughed up. I just want him to, you know." He gestured helplessly. "Push me up against the wall some more, pin me down, _something_. Just to really let me have it-"

"Okay, okay." Steve waved at him to stop. "That's enough."

Peter fidgeted on the work bench for a moment, and then blurted out, "I just want to get _fucked_."

"_Peter_."

"Sorry-okay. I'm done, sorry." Peter stared down at his feet as he kicked them together. "Sorry. I can't really talk about this stuff with...anyone. I had to get it off my chest."

Steve took a breath. He wanted to say something about how he didn't have any advice to offer, that he still didn't entirely approve of their relationship in the first place, but Peter's needy expression wore him down. "It's...okay," he said, wilting a little. "I understand." Responding was another beast, however, and he had to take another moment to organize his thoughts into coherency. "But it's not like _you_ don't understand why Bruce is that way. He takes precautions because they're necessary."

Peter scoffed. "Yeah, I know. I know better than _he_ does-he doesn't even remember what happened before." He shook his head. "Maybe it's selfish of me. I guess I just thought that after being together so many times, he'd get over it faster."

"I don't think you're selfish," said Steve; that much, at least, he had no trouble being honest about. "You care about him, and you...want to be with him. It's only natural to...uh-huh. Maybe you just need to give it more time."

"I know..." Peter sighed, and despite his dangling feet and shrugged shoulders, the look in his eyes made him appear suddenly much older. "Like I said, it's not that I'm really complaining. I knew it'd take time. But I don't like the thought that somewhere deep down, maybe he still doesn't fully trust me."

Steve immediately shook his head, saying, "I don't think it's that, either." He started to pull his stool closer, but then he changed his mind and instead sat himself down next to Peter on the workbench. "Honestly, I don't know him that well. But it's obvious that he cares about you as much as you do him. He's just doing what he thinks he has to in order to keep you safe."

"I don't want to be _safe_," Peter objected, "I want to be right up there with him. I know I could really help him if only he'd let me in more. Maybe I could even make Hulk-"

"Peter." Steve lowered is head so he could meet Peter's eyes seriously. "I know you mean well, but you have to be careful with that kind of thinking. Bruce is a grown man with a complicated history. It's not up to you to fix him. That's up to him."

"I know," Peter said again. "I do." He shrugged. "But there has to be something I _can_ do."

Steve pushed his hair back before remembering the state of his hands; he sighed, giving up on that front entirely. "Talk to him," he suggested. "Be as honest as you can. Maybe even get him to talk about the Hulk, if you can without pushing too hard. If you can get him to open up with you that way, maybe it'll..." He felt his cheeks turning red. "Maybe it'll translate to other areas, too."

"Yeah." Peter nodded along. "We still haven't really gotten the chance to talk about Hulk. I've been meaning to bring it up again, but with how busy we both are, I don't want to waste our time together pissing him off, you know?" He nodded some more. "But it's important."

"It is important," Steve agreed. He wanted to remind Peter that he should have had greater concerns than Bruce's bedroom behavior where the Hulk was concerned, but he didn't want to get into any fights, either. He shared a faint smile with himself and then scrubbed it off on the back of his palm. "I know you'll work it out. You've done a lot for Bruce already."

"I like to think so." Peter was quiet and thoughtful for a while, and just when Steve was considering returning to his work, he perked up again. "In the meantime," he said brightly, "do you have any tips for me?"

"Tips?"

"Yeah, you know." Peter's earnest uncertainty was replaced suddenly with vigor, and a grin twerked his wide lips. "Captain America's never-fail bedroom-pleasers or something?"

Steve flushed; his imagination provided him with a fleeting vision of himself burning as red as Johann Schmidt. "Um, no, I..." He shook himself and hopped off the work bench. "Sorry, Peter. But I don't have any experience with men."

"But you _are_ a man," Peter persisted. "And you're a superhero and a legend. You must have had women throw themselves at you in all sorts of creative ways."

"Not...exactly." Steve nudged the stool back to his motorcycle and sat down. "I don't know what you think World War II was like, but I didn't have much time for that sort of thing. There were even rules against it."

"No 'fraternizing' with the female officers?"

"Right. Not that..." Steve frowned at the engine in front of him. All of a sudden he could only think about the personnel file that had been sitting on his counter for months, opened several times but never utilized. He wasn't sure he wanted to get into that with Peter, but then found himself saying anyway, "Not that I didn't have my eyes open."

Peter scooted forward, but then he must have taken note of Steve's tone, and he sobered again. "There was someone you liked, huh?"

Steve smiled faintly despite himself. "Yeah. But it's a long story, Peter. Sometimes things just don't happen how you want them to."

"Yeah, I've been there," said Peter. "Before Bruce, there was this girl..." He shrugged. "It might have gone somewhere, you know? If not for...stuff. Now that we've both moved on it's easy to see things are better this way, even if it felt like the end of the world, at the time." He cleared his throat and straightened up. "But come on, that was seventy years ago. What about lately?"

"It wasn't that long ago for me," said Steve.

"Yeah, but...you _saved_ _the world_. That's got to give you an edge out there, right?"

Steve sighed. He was too distracted to work confidently on the bike, but he did start loosening and re-tightening screws, just to have an excuse to keep his head down. He could feel himself blushing again. "I guess."

"Are you really not going to tell me?" Peter gave him a long, puppy-eyed look. "I thought we were bonding."

Steve made a face, but Peter was starting to wear him down, and he knew he didn't have many other options for a sympathetic ear on the subject... He swallowed back his pride. "There was someone," he said, glancing to the elevator out of sudden paranoia that Tony might show up unannounced at any moment. "A woman I met, after the Battle of New York."

Peter gleamed with curiosity. "Yeah? Pretty?"

"Beautiful. Bright blue eyes, long hair." He glanced up, and Peter's eager expression reminded him almost too much of Bucky. He thought briefly of the many times he and his buddy had had similar conversations, a lifetime ago. "I saved her life from some Chitauri, and she was..."

"Grateful?" Peter supplied.

"Very grateful. So we..." Steve blushed darker and scraped the back of his hand across his cheek. "I don't know that I should be telling you-"

"You don't need to go into details," said Peter. "I get it-_very_ grateful. Do you still see her?"

"I...no." Steve shook his head and tightened another screw. "No, it was just the one time."

"Oh." Peter was quiet for a moment, and Steve almost cringed, knowing that he was figuring it out. "So. Not good, huh?"

"It was me," Steve blurted out, though he immediately regretted being that honest. The rest of it came out by itself anyway. "She was probably thinking the same thing you did-why wouldn't Captain America know what he's doing? But it's not exactly something they cover in basic training. I'd never been with a woman like her before. Made a damn fool of myself." He shook his head in embarrassment. "The truth is, Peter, at this point you probably have a lot more experience than I do when it comes to...that."

"Wow." Peter leaned back on his hands as he took that in. "Cool." When Steve glared at him, he shook himself, flustered. "Sorry," he said quickly, "I don't mean it like that. It's just unexpected. You seem so confident about everything all the time."

"That's because most of the time when you and I are together, there's trouble," said Steve, trying to hasten the topic along. "That, I know how to handle. Everyone has expertise in different areas."

Peter thumbed his nose. "Are you implying I'm a sex expert?" he teased.

Steve sputtered. "I didn't say that."

"A sexpert?"

"Peter."

"Because I'm obviously not," Peter went on. "Since I'm down here in the first place." He hemmed for a moment and got a bit more serious again. "Honestly, Bruce is the only person I've gone all the way with. And I was _super_ nervous. But he was great about it, and...hey." He perked up. "Maybe next time, you should just let the girl top."

Steve stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"The next time you have the chance, you should let the woman be on top," Peter suggested, sounding very proud of himself. "Let her do the work, you know? Then maybe it won't be so obvious that you're...new?"

"'Do the work'?" Steve repeated disapprovingly. "Really?"

"You know what I mean. A lot of girls even like it better." When Steve raised an eyebrow at Peter, he added, "So I've heard."

It wasn't worth it to argue. Steve even had to admit, it might not have been the worst advice. "I'll keep it in mind," he said.

"I'd give you more of _my_ tips, but as you pointed out, they're more geared toward guys."

"It's okay, really." Steve gave up on trying to look busy at the motorcycle and instead dug into Tony's nearby refrigerator. Luckily for them, even with Tony gone it was regularly stocked, and behind a row of alcohol Steve found a pair of colas. "I'll figure it out," he said, tossing one to Peter.

"That wasn't, like, your only time, was it?" Peter asked, opening the can with a snap.

Steve thumped down on the stool. "Are we really going to continue this conversation?"

"I'm just trying to make this quality time," said Peter, and all of a sudden his tone shifted. "Since I hear you're not going to be around much longer."

Steve was surprised when his stomach dropped. He hadn't expected that saying his so-longs to Peter would warrant a production, but when faced with his teenaged disappointment, it became daunting. "Who told you? I haven't even mentioned it to Bruce yet."

"It was JARVIS, actually," said Peter, and though he was smiling, his shoulders were slumped. "I was teasing him about getting my own floor in the tower, and he let slip that you were storing a few of your things on yours, getting ready for the move." He kicked his feet. "Tower's gonna be even quieter."

"I only stayed here for a few days, weeks ago."

"Yeah, but still..." Peter shrugged. "I feel better when I'm swinging the streets, knowing that you're just a phone call away. Watching my back."

Steve sipped his coke. He felt a little guilty that he hadn't fully considered what his relocation would mean to Peter; part of him had assumed that with Bruce around, there wasn't much of a need for anyone else. "You'll be fine," he said, and he meant it. "You were doing it for a long time before any of us showed up."

"Yeah, but I've gotten used to it. You've spoiled me." Peter gulped down nearly half the can on one breath. "So, you're going to DC?"

"Director Fury has transferred SHIELD's primary headquarters to the Triskelion," Steve explained. "He wants me close by, and I kind of like the idea of working out of a base again. A _stationary_ base. So I found a place, and I'll be able to get in at the first of next month." Peter's expression was fairly neutral but it made Steve wince anyway. "I was going to tell you," he said.

Peter shrugged again. "What about New York? Aren't you going to miss it? You're a Brooklyn kid."

"I am," said Steve, twisting the can back and forth in his hands. "Always will be. But it's not exactly _my_ Brooklyn anymore." He lowered his eyes as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "It's changed, but at the same time, it's still just familiar enough. I feel like every day I look around and wait for it to go back to the way it was." He shook his head. "I need to be somewhere new for a while, where I don't have those expectations."

"Yeah...I guess that makes sense. Man. It must be so weird for you." He was quiet for a moment, and then he shook himself and smiled. "But I'm sure you'll be fine wherever you go. You're _Captain America_ after all."

"Thanks, Peter."

They both fell quiet for a few beats. Steve continued to frown at his soda, trying to think of something more to say. There were speeches he could have made, reassurances he could have offered. But he felt he understood what might have mattered more, and how easy it would be to give it. Pride be damned.

"You know," said Steve, "after they made me Captain America, but before they sent me overseas, I was part of a USO tour." Peter straightened up, paying close attention. It was encouraging to know that Peter understood his intentions so easily. "They sent me from city to city with Adolf Hitler and a chorus line to drum up support for the troops and promote war bonds."

"Hitler," Peter repeated, smirking.

"Benny Oswald," said Steve, smiling with the memory. "He was always a good sport about it, even when I accidentally nicked him a time or two. And the girls in the chorus line loved him. Every new city we went to, the tour manager, Mr. Wislet, would shake his finger at him and say, 'Oswald, keep your hands off the girls. And that goes double for you, Rogers.'"

Peter laughed, and Steve knew a time would come that he would regret sharing so much information about his love life. "Did it work?"

"It did and it didn't," Steve admitted. He knew he was blushing again but he continued anyway. "Right when we started out, Benny and some of the band guys were asking me about the process I went through. Everyone wanted to know if the serum had affected..._every_ part of me."

Peter's eyes darted downward and then swiftly away, roving over the garage equipment before snapping back to Steve's face. "Aaaaaand?"

"And, I said yes," said Steve, and seeing Peter's boyish grin made him laugh self-consciously. "Yes, it did."

Peter snickered against the back of his palm. "Awesome."

Steve rubbed his nose and tried to power through the story. "So of course the word got around. I'm sure it was Benny that told the girls. None of them ever brought it up to me, but I overhead them speculating a few times, and then when we were in Milwaukee..." He coughed into his fist. "That's when it started."

"Oh my god," said Peter, catching on right away. "Did you get goosed?"

"All the time," replied Steve, and Peter looked ready to roll off the table. "On the bus and in the hotels there were chaperones everywhere and Benny and I weren't allowed anywhere near the girls, but whenever we finished a show, they would pass by me in the wings on their way off stage. And every time, one of them would try it, like they were taking turns. I nearly went through the roof the first time, I was so shocked." By then Peter was cracking up, and he had to stop. "I'm not making this up."

"I believe you, I believe you!" Peter's cheeks were red, too, as he laughed into his palm. "I don't blame them at all."

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Don't make me get my shield-I've had a lot of deflection practice."

"You were deflecting dick grabs _with your_ _shield_?"

"I had to do something!" Steve gulped down what was left of his coke. "I didn't want any of us to get in trouble."

"Oh my _god_, Cap."

Peter looked like he might bust a gut, and Steve considered leaving it at that, but it was good to see Peter laugh. It was good _to_ laugh. "It was harmless teasing, mostly. I wasn't used to the attention-I wouldn't have known how to act on it even if I hadn't been afraid of Mr. Wislet kicking me off the tour. Up until Raleigh, anyway."

Peter wrangled himself in. "What happened in Raleigh?"

Steve took a deep breath and almost started laughing again. "It was our last stop on the tour before they packed us up to join the troops overseas. There was this one girl in the chorus: Lizzie Malone. She had this curly red hair that drove everyone crazy-and she had the best high kick. I guess you could have considered her the ring-leader, in a way, but she wasn't able to come with us to Italy. That night in Raleigh was going to be her last show with us, and I knew...I just _knew_ it would be her."

"Oh, man."

"Yeah, I know-I was thinking about it the entire time I was on stage. She even winked at me toward the end, and I..." Steve was sure he was blushing down to his toes. "Well..."

"Oh, no." Peter's eyes grew impossibly wide. "You didn't get a boner on stage, did you?"

"This is just between us," Steve interrupted himself. "Not a word to Bruce, or Stark, or-"

Peter kicked his feet excitedly. "Holy shit you totally popped a boner on stage."

"I mean it, Peter, I don't want this on your Twitter."

Peter had to smother another bought of laughter against his sleeve. "I love hearing you say 'Twitter.'"

"I'm not going to finish this story until you-"

"Okay, okay, I promise. Not a word." He mimed zipping his lips. "So I bet your shield came in handy then, huh?"

Steve groaned into his hand. "You could say that."

"And did she go for it, after the show?"

"She did," said Steve, shaking his head again, unable to believe he was going through the tale after all. "And even with the shield, she-"

"You totally gave her an opening," said Peter, "didn't you?"

"I..." There was no going back. "I didn't cover up maybe as well as I should have. And she 'went for it,' and I don't have to tell you what _almost_ happened."

"Holy _shit_."

Steve paused to choose his words very carefully before continuing. "So there I was, in costume, running with my shield back to the closet Benny and I took turns in as a dressing room. And Lizzie, she followed me. I don't know how she snuck past Mr. Wislet, I think the other girls must have covered for her, but then, there she was. I meant to talk her out of it."

"Sure you did," Peter teased.

"I did," Steve insisted, but he was so far past the point of shame all he could do was grin. "And I started to, but then she said..." He cleared his throat. "She said to just go with it. She called me 'baby.' I didn't know what to do."

"_Baby_," Peter echoed, a terrible gleam in his eyes.

When Steve gave him the Captain look, he mimed zipping his lips again. "The rest, I think you can figure out," Steve finished. "Not that we..._all_ the way, she said she couldn't do that with her mother in the audience-"

"Ugh, buzzkill."

"-but we did...some things...and she snuck out again. Benny knew about it but he covered for me, and the last time I saw her, she was seeing us off on our way to the airport. Never saw her again." Steve let his breath out, still mostly incredulous. A beat later it all started to sink in. "I can't believe I just told you that."

Peter was halfway glowing. "That's amazing."

"I can't believe I just told you that story." Steve felt a little light-headed as he retreated to the fridge again for another coke.

"It's not like I'm a kid, Cap." Peter sucked the last bit of coke out of his can and then tossed it into a nearby bin. "I mean, it's practically what I was talking about earlier, you know? A little spontaneity can be really hot." Steve made a face that Peter giggled over. "Come_ on_, it was hot, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Steve admitted. "Yeah, it was pretty hot."

Peter burst out laughing again, and Steve couldn't help but chuckle along. It all seemed so incredibly ridiculous, but it was the best kind of ridiculous, a senseless enjoyment that peeled weights off his shoulders. It was exactly what they needed, and he was so caught up in it that he didn't realize JARVIS had spoken until the elevator door opened.

Steve glanced over, and the first thing he saw was a head of red hair, thrusting his stomach up into his ribs. It was Natasha, with Bruce close behind, and he and Peter both struggled to stop laughing as the pair of them joined them around the motorcycle. When Natasha raised an inquisitive eyebrow in his direction he felt a momentary sensation of panic, but she didn't look smug enough to indicate she had heard their conversation.

"Bruce!" Peter hopped off the table. "I was on my way up."

"That's what your text said," replied Bruce. He glanced between the two of them. "You took so long, I was starting to get worried."

"Are we interrupting something?" asked Natasha.

She looked Steve over, and he gulped, before realizing that she probably meant the grease stains he'd managed to get all over his arms, face, and hair. He turned to and fro in search of a towel even knowing there wasn't one nearby. "No, we were just-"

"We were bonding," said Peter. "Reminiscing about the 1940s." Steve flushed and started to interrupt, but then Peter added, "My great-grandma worked on a line making bullets during the war. It's kind of cool to think that maybe Captain America shot a Nazi with a Parker-made bullet."

It rolled off his tongue so easily-even Natasha looked like she was buying it. Steve hurried them to the next topic before she or Bruce could think too hard on it. "What about you? You don't usually make social calls."

"I'm here for a pickup," she said, not that she looked any more ready to be heading into a mission in her skinny jeans and tank top. "I'd tell you to clean up, but I'm kind of tempted to take you as is."

"He'd make for one hell of a distraction tactic," said Peter, tugging his backpack over his shoulder.

Steve rolled his eyes, wiping his hands off on his jeans. "At least let me find a shirt," he said as the four of them headed for the elevator together. "I still have some things upstairs."

Peter moved to Bruce's side, and once they were leaning back in the elevator together, their hands sought each other out. It was such simple intimacy that Steve wondered what Peter even had to be worried about. They certainly seemed like they were doing fine.

"Can you tell us what mission you're going on?" Peter asked as the elevator carried them up. "Or would you have to kill us?"

"It's not as dramatic as all that," said Natasha. "Don't worry, Parker. I always bring him back in one piece."

They reached Steve's floor, and Natasha stepped off first. Steve started to follow, but he paused, glancing back. "Peter," he said, "I want you to know, I'm still just a phone call away."

Peter smiled. He looked like he appreciated it, but then he got that spark in his eye, and he zipped his fingers across his mouth. Steve shook his head again and stepped out, letting the elevator doors close behind him. The last thing he saw was Peter turning to whisper in Bruce's ear.

Natasha was watching him. "Bonding, hm?" she said.

Steve realized that he was still holding onto his second coke, unopened, and when he offered it to her, she accepted. "Bonding," he said as he headed toward the far hall. "He is part of the team, now."

"More or less."

She opened the can with a snap. Steve glanced back, and as he watched Natasha tip her head back for a drink, he had the fleeting thought that she maybe she really did like being on top more.

_Damn it, Peter._ He turned away before Natasha could see him blush and hurried to find a clean shirt.


End file.
